A Garden of Our Own
by Shimizu Hitomi
Summary: FE8, 3 parts. 1. Ephraim and Myrrh, an almost love story. 2. Tana begins to immerse herself more and more in her search for an old comrade. The tale of the other princess and her knight. 3. Eirika is old and graying when she finally returns to Caer Pelyn.
1. The Bones of the Earth

**Disclaimer: Fire Emblem ain't mine.**

**Summary: **A fic in three stand-alone parts, which together form a larger overall thematic arc.  
Part One - Ephraim and Myrrh, an almost love story.  
Part Two - As the years pass and it becomes clear Ephraim intends never to wed, Tana begins to immerse herself more and more in her search for an old comrade. The tale of the _other_ princess and her knight.  
Part Three - Eirika is old and graying when she finally returns to Caer Pelyn.**  
Pairings:** Part One - sort of Ephraim/Myrrh, mentions of Seth/Eirika, Innes/L'Arachel, and one-sided Ephraim/Tana, and hints at others.  
Part Two - same as part one, but replace the not-quite Ephraim/Myrrh with a not-quite Cormag/Tana, and obviously much more emphasis on the unrequited Ephraim/Tana.  
Part Three - huge focus on Eirika/Seth, Eirika/Saleh (if you squint, hard), implied Ewan/Amelia, mentions of/hints at others  
**Rating:** K+ for possible slight swearing in part two, and for lack of fluff.

**Notes:** The title of this fic comes from the Alice Walker poem below. Part one shares its title with a short story by Ursula Le Guin, but is far from comparable to Le Guin's story in both content and quality.

* * *

**1. The Bones of the Earth**

_Despite  
the hunger  
we cannot  
possess  
more  
than this:  
Peace  
in a garden  
of  
our own._

- Alice Walker

Deep within the shadowed woods there dwelled a dragon, and there she passed the days in quiet and peace, and was content.

But one day the darkness came -- true darkness, darker even than the cool shade of those tall solemn trees that had been her home for so long -- and thereafter the world was changed, and she too was changed with it. And so it came to be that she found her contentment replaced by a deep and unshakeable feeling that was not quite joy, and not quite grief.

o-o-o

"It is too bad your sister could not come," she said, looking up at him with her little girl's eyes and her little girl's voice. "Saleh did so wish to see her again."

"It's a good thing Eirika already has Seth," the prince, now king, replied wryly. "Else she might actually have taken him up on his offer and disappeared into those mountains by now, and left me with all the work."

"Poor Saleh," giggled the little girl who was no girl, and when the prince-now-king frowned at her in jest, added, "Poor Brother."

"Do you know," said the young king then. "Do you know, they're getting married. In just a month's time. I was surprised, actually -- not about them, of course, but at the response of the public when we announced the wedding. I almost expected there to be a huge uproar about Eirika marrying beneath her station. You know, scandalous affair between the royal princess and her knight and all." He laughed, shook his head. "But the people love them dearly, are truly happy for them. They're all just incurable romantics, the lot of them."

"A month?" said she, for time passed differently for her, within these shadowed woods in which she dwelled.

"Yes. Very soon. Would you like to come? To the wedding? I mean, we would love to have you there, Myrrh. Seth and Eirika and I."

She tilted her head then and for some time she was quiet as she tapped at her chin and stared into the distance at some lost place beyond space and time.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't," said the young man, forcing the dejection from his voice. "Weddings are rather noisy affairs, I suppose, troublesome, really, all those people milling about and shouting nonsense at each other, rather like they're on some bloody battlefield, except no, I don't really mean that --"

"Are you happy for her?" she said softly.

He paused before he answered, slowly, as if struggling to untangle thoughts and words as they left his mouth. "Seth has always been like a brother to me. Even my father always treated him like another son, rather than just a mere retainer. He is a good man.

"I think... I think I knew. Even before the war, and everything happened... They cared for each other, even then, though it was after the castle fell that their love truly began to blossom."

She nodded, a gentle, rocking motion.

"When will I see you next, Brother?" she asked.

"I'll come again," he said, patting her head kindly, "after the wedding."

o-o-o

The wedding was a great success. So much of a success, indeed, that a few members of court had taken up dropping sly (and some not-so-sly) hints now and then, even as they discussed issues of finance and country with him.

"Ah, young love," declared one such courtier. "Weddings do such a wonder for morale, don't you think, King Ephraim?"

And he supposed it was true. Seth and Eirika were happy, and they shared their joy with the rest of the kingdom. Prior to the marriage, Seth had resigned his position as general, citing both that old injury he had received at the hands of Valter, as well as a desire to step aside for future generations of brave young knights, but he remained one of Ephraim's most trusted advisers. He and Eirika often rode out together to the countryside, offering aid where it was needed. They were much loved by the people.

"They do indeed," replied the young king then, with a vague smile upon his lips. "However, they also place quite a strain upon our treasury."

Ephraim may have been many things, but he was not stupid. He knew what it was they wanted of him, and found it was a prospect he would rather not dwell upon for long. He spent some months evading the issue as the clamor gradually died down, until the matter was finally dropped altogether.

"And here I thought your marriage would be enough to last them for years!" he complained to Eirika in private, nearly a year after she and Seth had been wed.

Eirika made a face at him. "You should hear the songs they sing about us."

Ephraim laughed. "I have, actually. Should I sing one for you? Let's see, how does it go..."

She silenced him swiftly with a glare, but then it faltered, and she sighed. "But you know, brother, you do need to start thinking about these things. You're going to need an heir..."

"I know. But Eirika, I'm still young, you know? _We're_ still young. And it's so soon after the war... We aren't anywhere close to finished with rebuilding Renais. We have far more urgent things to be concerning ourselves with than marriage and heirs."

"Are you..." Eirika began softly. "Are you upset with me, brother? I've been meaning to talk to you, but it seems like we never have a chance to be alone together anymore these days..."

"Upset?" he said, puzzled. "What do you mean? -- Oh."

"Do you think we should have waited?"

He looked at her face, troubled and sad, and drew her into his arms. But the gesture seemed somehow strange and alien, and he pulled back.

What she had said was true. They had all been drifting apart ever since the war, and even now it seemed fate was conspiring against them.

But to her, he said simply, "No, sister. Your happiness is my happiness. And I am glad for you."

o-o-o

"You missed Saleh," announced the little girl, sucking happily on the candy stick he had brought her. "He came just the other day."

"Is that so? How is he doing?"

"He seems very happy," she said. "He told me Ewan finally returned for a visit. Brought a girl with him, too. Amelia, I think."

He tried to imagine it, but could not. In his mind Ewan would always be that rambunctious little boy with a taste for practical jokes, and Amelia that slip of a girl who at first could barely even hold a lance properly.

"Amelia? I thought she went with General Duessel to find her mother."

"Yes, she did," the little girl agreed. "But after that she set off to wander the world with Ewan. Saleh says they're still young, but they'll settle down eventually, and when they do, it'll be in Caer Pelyn. He says he's looking forward to seeing how much Ewan will have grown by then. Is something wrong, Brother?"

He shook himself out of his thoughts, startled. "No, no. I was just thinking..."

She cocked her head, questioning.

"I was worried you'd be lonely, living here all by yourself," he said, thinking of that old offer -- so long ago now, it seemed, though hardly three years had passed since then. "But I guess you've been getting along just fine, huh?"

She must have known what was on his mind, for she chewed thoughtfully on her candy before replying. "I lived alone for many centuries. I suppose I'm used to it." And then, with a shy little smile upon her face, she added, "But Brother, of everyone who comes to see me, I look forward to your visits most."

He smiled back at her. "Thank you, Myrrh. I'll make sure to drop by more often, then."

o-o-o

In the fifth year after the end of the war, a great tremor shook the earth and destroyed near half of what had once been Grado. Those who survived fled. To Jehanna, to Frelia, to Renais. _Providence_, whispered the more religiously minded. Divine retribution, punishment for black traitors and blacker deeds.

But Ephraim remembered still Lyon, the boy who had been his friend and Eirika's friend. And he thought too that no matter what had happened in the end, they had still been friends. That would never change. And so as king of Renais he extended a hand to their former ally, turned enemy. Even though Renais itself had yet been restored to but a shadow of her former power and glory; even though all the other countries turned their backs on Grado's plight -- save Jehanna, whose own lands had too been affected mildly by the quake, and whose queen, it was said, hailed from Grado herself. Only after seeing the noble example Ephraim set did Frelia and Rausten join in to lend their aid, and Carcino, last of all. And Ephraim thought then that old dreams might come to fruition yet.

Two more years passed, and Eirika grew heavy with child. After some discussion, she and Seth decided to move out of the castle and stay in a quiet villa in the countryside.

"Just for a while," Eirika reassured her brother. "Until we've settled down a bit, and gotten used to parenthood."

Ephraim took one glance at her blushing, joyful face and smiled, though sadness lingered in his heart. As twins, they had always shared the deepest of bonds, and yet suddenly the thought occurred to him that now here was something that they would never be able to share.

"As long as you need," he said. "As long as you want."

Goodbye had never seemed so final.

o-o-o

The shadowed glen had always seemed to him solemn and timeless, as ancient as the earth itself. He thought, sometimes, that perhaps it had been there even at the dawn of the world, and would remain even until all else had turned to ashes.

"Do you think..." he said, "that you will ever have children?"

"I do not know," said the little girl solemnly. "Our people are scattered. I have not met another of my kind in many years. Not since... not since my father died, and before that there was only him."

"Oh, Myrrh, I --"

"My true mother and true father died when I was still too young to know them. My foster father was all I had. I knew no other children but myself. Perhaps someday I will be the last of my race. Perhaps, even now... I am the only one who is left. But I do not think I mind."

"You don't?"

"My father told me once..." she said, struggling to find the right words, "that we are both human and monster. And because we are both, we are also neither."

"... I see," he said then, and he did.

o-o-o

Eirika gave birth in early autumn, during the first week of harvest, to a pair of twins, a boy and a girl. When the news reached the other countries, King Joshua and Queen Natasha of Jehanna sent their blessings; King Innes and Princess Tana of Frelia, as well as Princess L'Arachel of Rausten, hurried to Renais to visit the new mother in person.

"Congratulations, Eirika. Seth," said Innes, nodding curtly at both before turning to nod at Ephraim as well.

"I'm so happy for you, Eirika!" gushed Tana, wrapping her friend in a tight hug. She did not, however, repeat the gesture as her brother had, though Ephraim noticed her glancing at him awkwardly when she thought he was not looking. "To tell you the truth, I'm a little jealous!"

"What lovely babies!" exclaimed L'Arachel. "Of course, I'm sure when _I_ have children, they shall be just as beautiful, if not more so!"

Ephraim was amused to note the slightest flush on Innes's face as he said, "Naturally, _my_ children will be quite handsome."

None of them were surprised. Even so, silence descended upon the room.

L'Arachel grinned smugly. "I see you are all shocked. I certainly would be, were I in your shoes! But yes, alas, it is true. Men all around the world are now soon to be deprived of this lovely --"

Innes interrupted her. "Yes. We are to be wed after L'Arachel's coronation, next summer. We came, in part, to invite the three of you."

"If Eirika is strong enough to travel by then..." began Seth.

"Yes, we'll be there," said Eirika. "We'll definitely be there."

Ephraim grinned. "Certainly took you long enough."

Innes only smirked. "I do believe I win this round, Ephraim."

Ephraim noticed Tana blushing in the corner, and wondered if the King of Frelia would be quite so smug if he knew of the match all the Renais courtiers had pressing for lately.

o-o-o

"I don't know what to do," said Ephraim. "Especially now that Innes and L'Arachel are getting married... Frelia and Rausten will flourish and prosper beyond everyone's wildest imagination, with their union. They're going to be unstoppable. Even I can see that."

The little girl giggled. "I can imagine. But is that such a bad thing, Brother? Are you not happy for them?"

"I am," he said. "But I have my own country to consider. My advisers -- they wish for me to wed Tana, so that the balance of power is not disrupted. And really, when I think about it, they do have a point, as distasteful as it is. Not that it's such a terrible prospect in itself; I mean, I've known her since we were children, and... and I know... that she's been harboring an infatuation for me, for nearly as long. And she and Eirika have always been the best of friends. But..."

"But..." prompted the little girl gently.

He hesitated, suddenly, and did not know why. "I -- I've known her for so long. She's... she's like a sister to me."

"Is that so?" said the little girl who was no girl, gently as ever, and suddenly the silence between them seemed to him stretched and unfamiliar, unbearable.

"I have to go," said Ephraim. "I'll come by again soon."

o-o-o

In years after, tales of the infamous wedding between Innes of Frelia and L'Arachel of Rausten spread and flourished throughout the land, until there came a time when any man or woman who could claim to have been present at that wondrous spectacle became, in their own towns and villages, as if royalty themselves, envied and revered and clamored after.

Ephraim, however, remembered little of it afterwards.

He remembered Tana, flitting about like a shadow, ever near, ever on his mind. She'd asked him for a dance, at long last, having gathered up her courage over the hours and days, and he had accepted, but it had all of it seemed like a strange but curious dream, a dream from which he could not wake.

Eirika had pulled him aside later that night, cradling one of the twins in her arms.

"Ephraim, if you don't love her, you should let her know. You can't just leave her hanging like this. You have to set her free."

"I do love her," he'd protested, but the words had rung hollow in his ears.

"Yes," said his sister sadly. "You do. But not enough."

o-o-o

He was thirty-six when he visited the Darkling Woods for the last time, and realized with a start that in all the time he had known her, the little girl had never changed. There she stood before him, watching him with her little girl's eyes, laughing with her little girl's voice, smiling her little girl's smile. Eyes that saw too much, a voice that spoke words wise beyond its years, a smile of things intangible, things murky and unfathomable, things faded, unreachable.

He never went back again.

o-o-o

Tana came alone to see him on the eve of his fortieth birthday.

"I love you," said Tana. "I always have, and I think I always will. But... I can't wait forever. I -- I can't."

She fled before he could see her tears, but even so he knew.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the emptiness.

o-o-o

Many years later, Seth came to him.

"My king, my brother, Ephraim -- I have held out this long, but I have not much longer left."

And Ephraim realized that just as the former general had foreseen, that grievous wound he had suffered that long ago night had never truly healed.

"My friend, my brother, Seth -- you have served me well. If there is anything you wish, tell me, and I shall do all that is in my power to grant it."

The former knight shook his head. "I have nothing to ask of you, my king. For I have lived a full and happy life. I am content."

And Ephraim bowed his head, and wept, for the first time in many years. "Seth --"

"Don't cry," said Seth. "Eirika -- it will break her heart to see you so."

"Does she know?"

"Yes. She says nothing, but I think she knows. I... I do not regret the choices we have made. But I am sorry that I must leave before her."

"I will take care of her," said Ephraim. "She is my sister. I will take care of her, and I will care for your children, and your children's children, as if they were my own. This I promise you, Seth. It is the least I can do."

The look within the other man's eyes at that moment spoke more than words could ever tell.

After the funeral, Eirika moved back to the castle with their children, already now adults in their own right, with burgeoning families of their own, for what had been at first a temporary stay in the countryside had turned to decades.

But as the weeks passed, Ephraim saw that the unhappiness within his sister's eyes lingered on still. There was a hole in her heart that could not be mended, could not be filled. And he realized with a heavy heart that though siblings they might be, and twins at that... he no longer knew her.

"Go," he said to her, the first day of the second month of her stay. "This place holds too many memories for you."

And when she looked at him with eyes filled with grateful understanding, he thought that perhaps he had not lost her after all, had never truly lost her.

"Ephraim..."

"Go," he said again. "I set you free."

The last he heard of her, she was dwelling peacefully in Caer Pelyn, quietly living out her days.

o-o-o

Deep within the shadowed woods there dwelled a dragon, and there she passed the days in quiet and peace, but she was not content. For something within her heart had stirred, and the world had been changed, and there was no turning back.

He was dying when he came, and dying as she cradled his silver-white head in her lap, stroking his wrinkled face.

"You're still the same as ever..." He chuckled, a harsh, dry sound. "I wondered. I should have known."

"Why did you come?"

"I don't know. I don't know. I thought I'd never come back."

"You changed."

"Yes. Yes. I suppose I did. We all did. I don't think Innes ever forgave me for breaking his sister's heart... What would he have done had I married her instead, I wonder? That man..."

"I missed you."

Silence, but for the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

"Strange..." he murmured. "I had forgotten how peaceful this place was... Even in the darkness and gloom, not knowing what else might be out there..."

"I'm glad I met you," she whispered, and brushed his eyelids shut.

There she buried him, deep within the heart of the woods, where no sunlight reached and the stones and the trees and the air had existed long before the dawning of the world, and would linger on even after the rending of the very fabric of the earth.

* * *

**last edited 9/07/2007. **Parts two and three are not so much a continuation of this as they are a parallel to it. All three parts are separate stories in themselves and can probably stand alone reasonably well, but I'm putting them together as one fic because to me they are three parts of a larger story.

**3/29/2008: FIXED FOR SCENE BREAKS EFF YOU **


	2. The Winter of Our Discontent

**Disclaimer applies.**

**Notes:** The title of this part is from the opening lines of Shakespeare's Richard III. "Now is the winter of our discontent/Made glorious summer..." Also, this part is very, _very_ long, which accounts partly for the long delay in posting it. And also it has a somewhat happier ending than the previous part. **edited 9/28/2007 (3/29/2008 -- SCENE BREAKS)**

* * *

**2. The Winter of Our Discontent**

_"I'd been wondering for a while... whether there's any meaning to a failed love.  
Is something that will disappear the same as something that never existed?"_

- Takemoto Yuuta, _Honey and Clover II_, episode 12

She had been a mere child of four when she saw the shooting star. Her mother had still been alive then, and Innes still the warm, caring brother of her youth.

"Make a wish, Tana," her mother had whispered, holding her tightly against the chill night breeze.

She no longer remembered what she had wished for, but even now she could still see the scene playing out in her mind as clearly as if it had all happened only yesterday, as if all the years in between had been nothing but a dream. She remembered watching the star streaking across the dark sky, falling to the earth, the flaming tail that trailed behind it extinguishing in the inky night sky, and she remembered that it had seemed to her the saddest and yet most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

o-o-o

"Someday, we're going to be famous," Glen would always tell him, when they were still but boys, toiling on their dusty little farm in their dusty little village.

He had always laughed and shrugged in response.

"You will be, brother. Not me. I'm not as good as you, and you know it."

Not that he minded. Glen was the dreamer, not he. Handsome Glen, talented Glen, brilliant Glen. His older brother Glen. Glen, who was wasted on this poor backwater village, who should have been better suited as a king's son, not a farmer's son.

How different things should have been.

o-o-o

Her mother died of illness in the winter of her sixth year, and when she reflected upon it years later she thought it must have been then that everything had begun to change. She and her brother had never been particularly close, but from then on the distance between them had only grown, as Innes began to shoulder more and more responsibilities on his own. Only after years had passed did she come to realize that perhaps, that had been the only way for him to deal with his grief.

But as a child Tana understood none of this. She knew only that she was alone. This new and sudden feeling of isolation confused her, and in her confusion she turned rebellious. She demanded new toys, new clothes, new books, new maidservants. Her father, still in mourning himself, had no heart to deny her anything, and granted all that she wished. But nothing, she found, could fill the emptiness her mother had left behind.

For her eighth birthday, she demanded a party, complete with tea and dolls and fancy dresses. King Hayden, advised to surround his daughter with more children her own age, invited the young prince and princess from neighboring Renais.

She would remember even years later, in perfect clarity, the perfect ringlets of her hair, curled specially for the occasion and ornamented with flowing ribbons, her flouncy pink dress with layers of lace and frills, and her shoes, shiny and new and red, like the dancing slippers in her favorite bedtime tale. She had felt like the Queen of Fairies herself, flitting about the garden among the flowers her mother had loved.

The twins of Renais had been eight as well, she remembered, and her brother Innes nine. Eirika had been as kind and sweet and wonderful then as she remained now, and though Tana had known no other children save for her brother and herself before that day, she and the young princess of Renais instantly became the best of friends.

But it was Ephraim who truly captured her heart that day, as she watched him tenderly brush back his sister's hair after a particularly strong breeze swept through the garden. A trivial gesture, perhaps, but Innes had never done any such thing for her, and probably never would. She had stared openly at Ephraim for the rest of the party; indeed, could not bear to take her eyes away from him. For he was even then handsome and strong and generous, and everything else a prince ought to be -- a far cry from Innes, who was stubborn, and petty, and overly stern.

That night, for the first time in months, she did not dream of her mother, lying sickly and pale in her musty gray bed, smelling of death and decay. She dreamed instead of a boy with an easy smile, and hair the color of a clear summer sky.

o-o-o

One day he would never forget: a crisp autumn morn, leaves blazing red atop the trees, as if the Emperor's woods were on fire. He and his brother atop their wyverns, silver clouds rushing past, hair whipping back on the breeze.

And then they had seen it. The famed white stag of Grado -- diamond antlers, hooves of gold, fleeter than the wind.

His brother had laughed, and he had laughed, and without a word they had given chase, and relished the feel of their blood coursing through their veins as they raced across the vast blue expanse of sky, skimming against the forest canopy, their wyverns screeching into the wind.

Thus they had chased -- for hours or for minutes, he did not know -- until at last, they cornered the creature at the edge of a cliff. And Glen had turned to him, shouting as he brandished his gleaming sword, though the wind swallowed his words before they could reach him.

But then the white stag too had turned, and looked straight at him, and its eyes were the intense, pure blue of the sky reflected in their depths.

"No, brother, wait!" he'd yelled then. And perhaps his voice had broken some spell, for next he looked, the white stag was gone, not even the glimmer of a shadow remaining.

He would never be certain if it was a true memory, or if it had all just been a dream.

o-o-o

In the spring she wandered about the castle and the castle grounds unhampered, and one day saw a troop of pegasus knights training, noticing in particular a pair of laughing green-haired sisters. As soon as she turned nine, she demanded to be allowed to train as a pegasus knight as well, and her father could not find it in him to refuse.

Flying on her pegasus, she felt free for the first time in her life, with a giddy breathlessness she had only ever experienced whenever she met or spoke to Ephraim.

She felt, sometimes, that she could race all the way to the edges of the world, and there find all the dreams she had ever dreamed and ever would dream, and still return in time for tea.

_I'm here, said the smiling boy. I'll always be here._

_For you._

_Forever._

o-o-o

Both he and Glen rose quickly in the ranks of the Grado army. Everyone loved Glen, handsome and charismatic. And yet Glen did not let their success get to his head, but remained ever noble and kindhearted.

"Brother, you're a regular heartbreaker!" Cormag had said, joking, one day, after the latest blushing maiden had dropped by with a small gift of home-cooked food.

Glen had been sincerely surprised. "Truly? I hadn't noticed."

"More than half the girls in the empire are head over heels in love with you, and you hadn't noticed?"

Glen had only laughed. "You've always been the observant one, Cormag. I treat all women with the kindness and respect they deserve, but it had not occurred to me that some might take my actions for some deeper meaning. Besides, I have sworn my life to Emperor Vigarde. You know I have no time for such things!"

"You could be the worst of cads and still they would love you."

"Ha, you flatter me, little brother!"

But it was true, Cormag had thought, and still thought now. For Glen was like a blazing star, so brilliant that it hurt to look at him, and yet at the same time impossible to look away from.

That summer, despite his relative youth, Glen was promoted to General, and named Sunstone, that crystal so beloved of seafarers. Glen was the proudest Cormag had ever seen him, and Cormag too was proud for him, and content in his own relative obscurity.

He found the new name fitting, for indeed his brother was the sun to Valter's moon. Like a bright guiding light in the darkness, he thought, leading Grado to the dawn of a new and glorious age.

And gladly he would follow.

o-o-o

War came upon them suddenly, without warning. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought war would ever come to peaceful Magvel. When she told her brother this, he replied that she was naive, but Tana could see that even he was shaken. No one had expected war to break out, not in their lifetimes, not their children's lifetimes, not ever. War was a thing of the distant past, a thing of song and tale.

But not anymore.

Tana demanded to fight, but for once, King Hayden would not accede to her wishes.

"Tana, you are the princess," her father said. "You cannot, must not risk your life like that. You have a duty to your people." Then his face softened. "I lost your mother years ago, and just weeks ago now, Fado, one of my dearest friends. And then at Border Mulan, I nearly lost you. I do not think I could bear it if..."

"But Eirika and Ephraim --" She stumbled on the prince's name. "And Innes..."

"Eirika and Ephraim are doing what they must. As is Innes. As should you."

She and Innes had not inherited their stubborness from nowhere, and she recognized that in this matter the king would not budge. But how could she just sit by when Eirika, Ephraim -- her _friends_ -- were out there, putting themselves into all manners of danger? Perhaps she could not understand the war, could not understand what was going on, but she could not call herself a true friend if she did not do anything to help.

And, she thought, she could not bear it if she were to lose either of them.

That night, she stole away secretly upon her pegasus. Only when she had reached a safe distance from the castle did she hesitate. For her brother and Eirika had gone east, and Ephraim to the south.

In the end, she could not bring herself to follow him, and turned her pegasus's head to the rising sun.

o-o-o

Even years later, he could never pinpoint exactly when everything had begun to change.

The changes had been subtle, at first. Some two years after Glen's promotion, Valter, the Moonstone, was replaced by Selena Fluorspar. And that had been a welcome change indeed, for Valter was treacherous and cruel, where Selena was as noble and honorable as the best of knights, though like Cormag and Glen, she had been but a mere commoner before becoming a soldier and then rising through the ranks. She soon grew to be a sister to them, and though she and Glen played at a friendly rivalry, the days were filled with promise and laughter.

But then, one harsh winter, the Emperor had fallen ill. And then the days had been shrouded in worry and gloom, and even Prince Lyon seemed to be spiraling deeper and deeper into despair. Rumors in the streets spoke of Vigarde's death, and yet not even they who should have been closest to the Emperor knew the truth. Of General Duessel and the three of them, Selena took it the worst, for she loved Emperor Vigarde most deeply of them all.

The day the Emperor reappeared before them, alive and well as he had ever been, there was much rejoicing. Selena had wept in Glen's embrace, and then Duessel's, and then Cormag's, and Glen had laughed for the first time in weeks, and even Duessel seemed decades younger, a young man in his prime once more. Yet despite his joy, Cormag could not help but notice the weary hardness in Prince Lyon's face, and his gladness was tainted with a faint but lingering sense of unease.

Too much was happening, he decided. So much, that he could not possibly make sense of it all. Nothing to be concerned over. Or so he told himself, over and over, even as the unease grew over the ensuing months. Things were different than they had been before, for some reason: the relations between Glen and Selena more strained, Duessel more troubled and distant than usual. Glen began to withdraw even from Cormag, speaking little to him, and seldom.

It was only natural, Cormag reassured himself. They had just nearly lost their emperor; things would get back to normal, given time.

Just months later, war was declared, and Cormag could see the doubt that consumed his brother. None of them could understand what was happening; Renais and Grado had been close allies for the longest time, and Emperor Vigarde had always been a peace-loving man.

"Do you think illness can drive a man to madness?" said Glen one night, in the privacy of their quarters.

"Brother..."

"I have always had the utmost faith in our Emperor. Even this war may have some deeper meaning behind it, that we cannot yet see. And yet... today I heard tell that His Majesty has promoted three new generals. Does he mean to replace us? And if not, since when has Grado ever required more than the Imperial Three?"

"His Majesty knows and treasures your worth, brother. He would not do such a thing."

"It's not that I would mind, if I were to be replaced. For it may be that there is one who is more suitable than I for the job. But..." Glen trailed off, and would not say any more.

Cormag did not push him, but worried, and felt the distance between them widen ever further. He could do nothing but watch on helplessly -- for no matter what conclusion Glen came to, Cormag knew his brother could only get his heart broken.

It should not have come as a surprise to him when barely weeks later, Glen was killed.

But it did, and threw him into a wild rage he had not known he possessed. He realized then that his loyalty had ever been to Glen first and foremost, even before the Emperor himself, and could not tell whether it was for his brother that he grieved, or for the distance that now could never again be breached in this lifetime, or if it was not even grief at all but merely a deep and harrowing guilt.

o-o-o

She spent her days wondering where her brother was, and her nights wondering if Ephraim was doing well. After they rescued and joined up with Innes, and found him still his same arrogantly stubborn self, her thoughts began to turn more and more to the prince. She regretted, sometimes, her decision to come join Eirika -- what if Ephraim needed her more? But in the end she always ended up feeling guilty over her doubt, for Eirika too was her friend.

It was with these thoughts on her mind that she raced towards Eirika when she saw the wyvern rider approaching. The rider looked strangely familiar; his features, she realized as she neared, were reminiscent of the General Glen whom they had encountered back in the mountains of Carcino, but rougher, harsher.

By the time she reached them, however, it seemed Eirika and the rider had come to some agreement, for the rider came flying towards her, growling, "Get out of my way, girl!" before swooping down and running his lance through an enemy soldier behind her.

Perhaps once upon a time, she would have recoiled at the naked anger in his eyes, or perhaps gotten angry herself at his condescension. But war had since steeled her heart.

"My name is Tana," she called out. "Have you joined our side?"

"I told you, you're in my way."

"You're from Grado, aren't you? It cannot be easy to turn from your country like this."

"It's none of your business. Now move it!"

"No. You can't fight here alone. I'm going to help you."

He frowned, stabbed another soldier. "... You're an odd bird, aren't you."

She aimed a javelin at an approaching cavalier and smiled. "So, I take it you'll allow me to stay?"

"Don't get me wrong," he said. "I don't know why you're fighting, what you're fighting for, and I don't care. I'm not on anyone's side but my own."

"Fine. But at least let me know your name."

He looked up, face twisting strangely before he replied.

"My name is Cormag."

o-o-o

The sight of his brother's body that terrible day had filled him with blind fury, and yet as night after night, the vision continued to haunt his dreams, he could feel nothing but an indescribable horror.

When Valter had told him it was Eirika he had been angry beyond belief, for he knew his brother must have put too much trust in her kindness, was too kind himself to cause harm to an innocent woman. Clearly the woman had taken advantage of him, and repaid his trust with -- with such ruthless savagery.

When he had found out otherwise, the sharpness of his anger had dulled, transformed to a gnawing, relentless hatred, simmering deep within his heart.

That was when the dreams had begun.

During the days he distracted himself by observing the other members of this ragtag army, steeling himself against all thought of his brother, but when night came there was nothing he could do.

"You're pretty good with a spear," he said one day to a man he recognized to be the famed Silver Knight of Renais. It was the truth -- he had been watching the knight for some time by then, and knew the man to be strong; yet as soon as the words left his mouth he was unsure why he had spoken, for he had tried to keep his distance from the rest of the group.

He was surprised at his own lack of reaction when the other man mentioned Glen, and surprised again when he found himself actually enjoying the man's company. For despite the other man's reserve and refined manners, it was clear that he too was a soldier at heart.

He watched the knight Seth more closely from then on, noting the man's intense loyalty to the Princess Eirika, realizing the depth of emotion that ran beneath his unruffled surface, barely concealed. He wondered then how he could have ever doubted Eirika, and believed instead in the venomous lies of Valter.

"Forgive me, I had not realized --" Seth said, the next time they met, and Cormag shook his head fiercely.

"For everyone, there is someone who... duty or no, you would, without question, without hesitation, give your life for. My brother was mine." Cormag paused. "You understand."

And he saw that the knight did, and respected him for his silence. Cormag changed the subject.

"Who's that girl who's always with Princess Eirika, anyway? The blue-haired one, that pegasus knight. She's been hounding my side during battle ever since we met. Told me her name was Tana, but she's clearly more than that, judging by her company."

"You don't know?" said Seth, his amusement betrayed by a slight quirk of his lips. "That would be _Princess_ Tana. Of Frelia."

Cormag let out a sharp bark of laughter. "You're joking! That girl?"

"I don't joke about such things, Cormag."

"Heh, right. I suppose that does explain things, though..."

Strangely enough, he did not dream that night, but slumbered peacefully for the first time in weeks.

o-o-o

Her joy at reuniting with Ephraim after their hard-won victory in the desert was dampened somewhat, though for what reason she could not quite say. Perhaps it was little Myrrh, who clung tightly to Ephraim and followed him wherever he went. Or perhaps it was L'Arachel, the princess of Rausten, who flirted shamelessly with Ephraim while Tana's own approaches only seemed to distance him even further. And since when had L'Arachel become such good friends with Eirika, Tana wondered? Even Innes, who bickered constantly with L'Arachel in that formal smug way of theirs, as if in some private contest between only the two of them, seemed more amused than annoyed with the princess's haughty demeanor.

A good match, my brother and that woman, she thought bitterly, but then fiercely brushed away those thoughts.

What ugliness festered within her heart, she thought then.

How terrifying.

Once, she saw the wyvern rider Cormag standing apart from the rest of the army, staring out into the distance. She had approached uncertainly, realizing he wished to be alone, yet unable to stand the sight of his broad back silhouetted in the dying light, etched with bitter grief.

When he had turned, she had seen herself reflected in his eyes. And though she knew not why, that had frightened her too.

o-o-o

The nightmares returned the day he ran his lance through Valter's treacherous heart, but they were no longer filled with visions of his brother's mutilated body, of accusing, sightless eyes trained upon him wherever he turned. Instead he dreamed Glen alive and well once more, and the white stag, fleet as the wind, and the two of them upon their wyverns, racing against time.

_Kill, kill,_ whispered the wind, a mockery of Glen's voice, and the white stag stared at him with eyes as blue as the sky, Glen's eyes --

In his dreams he slaughtered his brother a thousand times, and when it was all done there was not even the wind, but only Valter's crazed laughter echoing unendingly in the vast, dark emptiness.

"Are you well?" asked General Duessel, when they first met again, after that battle.

_your heart not your flesh_

And he had found he could not answer, for there was nothing left.

o-o-o

As they rode ever closer to Rausten, in pursuit of the boy who had once been Eirika and Ephraim's friend, Tana began to realize that she didn't understand anything. She couldn't.

Eirika laughed and smiled with her as always, but there was ever a sadness in her smile now, and she seemed often as if she were in a world far apart from the rest of them, a world Tana could not even hope to touch. Ephraim was the same -- though there was no hint of sadness in his bearing, his face seemed harder, and he did not smile and laugh as freely as he once had, and what few of his smiles remained were reserved for little Myrrh. He and Eirika both seemed so far away, unbearably so. Sir Seth stood ever at their side, supporting them; even Innes managed to pierce through the bubble that surrounded them as he conferred with Eirika and subtly needled Ephraim, and she had watched as L'Arachel and Eirika began to confide more and more in each other as their journey went on. But Tana alone felt distanced from them all.

How she longed to support them as well! But no matter how she tried, the gap only seemed to widen.

"I do appreciate your affection," said Ephraim. "I always feel better when you're around," said Eirika.

And yet she could not help but feel as if they were constantly pushing her away. Every time she tried to reach out, she was met only with a blank, pleasant mask, a thick wall even her utmost efforts failed to penetrate. Why? she wondered. Why would they not let her share their burdens? The turmoil in her heart was so terrible that she thought she would be torn in two.

Innes was no help, though that was hardly unexpected.

"Your place is not on the battlefield," he insisted constantly. "Go back to Castle Frelia."

And then L'Arachel would materialize at his side out of nowhere, babbling about some sight he absolutely had to see, and then Innes would counter with some description of the Frelian landscape, and she would in turn describe some grand Rausten festival, and so on, until they had completely forgotten about Tana's presence, and the conversation degenerated to a toss of L'Arachel's pretty little head and a snide, "Just wait until we get to Rausten, then you'll see!"

Perhaps that was why, during a lull in the fighting one day, as she flew over the battlefield near the wyvern rider Cormag, as she had taken to doing, she finally dredged up the courage to speak to him again. Or perhaps it was because of Innes's words to her the previous night. _Your ignorance of the world around you is simply appalling, _he'd said. _It must be tough for a pampered castle brat like you to interact with soldiers._

They had infuriated her, as Innes's words always did, and yet as usual she could not altogether deny the truth of them, either.

"Hello, Sir Cormag," she called out, Innes's voice echoing in her mind, and was surprised when the wyvern rider looked up and greeted her with a wry, inscrutable smile.

She had taken care to plan what she would say to him beforehand, and yet even so, she was surprised once more at how well the conversation went, how easy it was to speak to him. For despite his gruffness, he was nothing like the angry, intimidating man she had come to expect.

Indeed, such a confusing man, she thought, as the days passed. He would not let her address him by any honorifics, and yet he would not call her anything but Princess either. Once she saw him tenderly caring for a wounded kitten, and yet out of battle he kept mostly to himself, and spoke little to anyone, even his fellow Grado expatriates.

Watching him fight, she felt inexplicably sad.

"You know, that wyvern rider, Cormag. Why did he turn traitor to his country?" Tana asked Innes one evening, after they had set up camp for the night.

"General Glen was his brother," Innes replied distractedly. "Valter the Moonstone betrayed him, and murdered him in the mountains of Carcino soon after we encountered him."

"Oh," she said, remembering that fierce battle they had fought in the desert. Wyvern riders all around them, and blood and sweat trickling down her face, and Cormag and a cackling madman upon a dark beast in the center of it all.

"Why do you ask?" said Innes, but by then she was already gone.

If Innes were to be killed, she wondered, and shuddered at the thought -- if Innes were to be killed, and she left all alone in the world, how would she feel? What would she do? What manner of darkness would conquer her heart, shrivel her soul?

She was finally beginning to understand, she thought then. Cormag's sadness, and the twins' sadness, and her own.

She clenched her fist, and vowed then that she would wait. She would wait for Ephraim, no matter how long it took, and when he was ready, she would be there for him, there at his side, there to support him.

She would wait for him, she thought, even until the end of time.

o-o-o

Both Seth and the Princess Tana made him offers to serve their respective countries once the war was over, but he refused them both. _What are you fighting for?_ she'd asked, and he had looked her in the eye, and for the first time, told her the truth he had been unable to admit to anyone else. But General Duessel had bestowed upon him already a far heavier responsibility, and after the final battle he had taken the cursed lance in his hands and looked at it, and knew where his duty truly lay.

On his return to Grado, he began to work hard, giving help where it was needed, assisting General Duessel with the official reconstruction efforts.

He and Seth exchanged letters occasionally, though neither of them were really letter-writers. They were both men of action, men of sword and spear, and Cormag had learned to read and write too late to ever feel less than awkward when dealing with words on paper. Even so, they wrote often enough that Cormag knew of Seth's marriage to the Princess of Renais a month before the wedding, and sent his congratulations along with a small carved wyvern, similar to the lively wooden figurines Glen had whittled for him as a child; and Seth received regular updates on their progress in rebuilding Grado.

In his spare time, Cormag ran his hands over the smooth surface of Duessel's cursed lance, and wondered what man could have made such a weapon, to drive other men to madness.

o-o-o

Despite all her careful preparation, when the war ended and she and Ephraim finally had a chance to talk, all her words came out wrong.

"I know you're going to be busy and everything," she said, stumbling over the lines she had rehearsed and rehearsed. For some reason, Ephraim always had that effect on her. "But I don't mind. I'll always be there for you. I'll wait for you, no matter what."

She could feel her face burning, but then Ephraim smiled at her, a smile of gratefulness, as beautiful as his smiles of old had ever been, and she thought then that perhaps everything would turn out all right after all.

At the end of the war, both Frelia and Rausten were positioned favorably, having played such key roles during the war, and then having come out of it with the least damage of all the nations of Magvel. They soon emerged as the two most powerful countries on the continent. But with power came responsibility, and both Innes and L'Arachel took to visiting each other often, on whatever ambassadorial excuse had come up at the time. Tana felt useless throughout all the proceedings; all the political maneuvering went completely over her head, though Innes was right at home with it. She thought often that it was a good thing her brother was heir, and not she. Instead, restless, she took to spending time reviving and tending her mother's wilted gardens, or flying off on her pegasus whenever she could slip away, and sometimes, rarely, helping with the occasional monster exterminating expedition.

Meanwhile, she exchanged letters regularly with Eirika, and was happy to find their friendship back to normal. _Ephraim is doing well_, Eirika would write, and Tana would reply, _I'm glad_. And when Seth and Eirika got married soon afterwards, she thought, _soon_.

But the proposal never came.

She told herself that he was not ready yet, that he was still busy rebuilding his country. That she would be patient. She would wait for him. Even so, she could not hide her confusion, her growing discontent.

"You really are in love with that man, aren't you," said Innes one day, completely out of the blue.

"And so what if I am?" she shot back, shaken by the suddenness of the accusation.

"Why you keep waiting for that damned fool, I don't know. He's not worth it, Tana! If he hasn't figured it out by now, he never will. Just give up on him already."

She stared at her brother, unable to reply.

He shook his head and added, more gently, "It's not that Ephraim isn't a good man. He is. I should know. But I think I know him a sight better than you do, and Tana, I don't want to see you hurt any more than you already have been --"

"You're just saying that because he's ten times the man you are!" she screamed, feeling the tears burning in her eyes. _You don't understand. You can't understand._

Innes pressed his lips together so tightly they turned white. "Tana, you're acting like a child."

She stormed away and would not speak to him for a week, even knowing that her actions only served to prove his point.

o-o-o

Disaster struck in the fifth year after the war's end. It took them all by surprise, though they should have been used to such occurrences by then -- but then, the quake was like no tremor they had ever experienced before.

The earth raging and trembling beneath their feet, tossing them to the ground, buildings crumbling to dust, fire burning everything else to ash, and men and women and children screaming as their bodies were crushed by rock. When the shaking finally calmed, Cormag stood and surveyed the wasteland that stretched for miles in every direction around him, and wept.

"I guess this is our punishment, eh?" said Duessel, coming up beside him, but he could not answer through his tears.

All their blood and sweat and tears, all for naught. All their efforts gone to waste.

In the ensuing weeks, he could think of nothing else.

Seth wrote a letter, telling him that Ephraim intended to send help, but Cormag could not bring himself to reply. As soon as things settled down somewhat, they started all over again, rebuilding, redigging, replanting, but nothing seemed the same anymore.

Everywhere he turned, he saw accusing eyes boring holes into him.

_Traitor. You dog. You brought this upon us through your treachery. If only you had died, and not your noble brother!_

He began to spend more and more time alone, staring at the lance Duessel had given him, holding it, contemplating it. Some days, he wondered if the lance was driving him mad after all.

About a year after the great quake, he disappeared without a trace, leaving only a brief note of apology to General Duessel, and sending one final letter to Seth.

In the end his footsteps took him south. People who saw him stared and wondered, for those who shared the road with him all walked in the opposite direction; some headed to Jehanna, most to Renais. But he ignored them all, and walked on alone.

He found his old village mostly intact, but empty save for a few stubborn families who had lived there for generations and saw no need to leave now. There he settled down, and took up woodworking, helping the villagers rebuild what had been destroyed or lost.

Some days, he thought wryly of his old conversation with the Princess of Frelia, and was not sure if the memory comforted or pained him.

o-o-o

She did not learn of Cormag's disappearance until three years after the fact. By then, Eirika and Seth had been parents for a year, Innes and L'Arachel had finally gotten married in the most extravagant wedding ceremony Magvel had ever seen, and Ephraim still had not proposed. They had danced together, at the wedding. And she had been so happy, and yet so sad, and she could not say how such joy and such grief could coexist within her.

Afterwards, Eirika, who was still her closest friend after all, had approached her, one of her children cradled in her arms.

"I'm sorry about my brother, Tana," the other woman had said.

Tana had laughed it off. "Whatever for?" she had asked. "To be there for him, at his side... I am content."

Eirika had said nothing then, but smiled sadly, knowingly at her.

It was from an off-the-hand mention in one of Eirika's frequent letters that Tana first heard that Cormag had gone missing, and she soon squeezed the full story out of her brother, or at least what little was actually known to him through his spy network. Furious that no one had thought to inform her, she then spent the next few days locked up in her room, sulking. When she emerged at last, she immediately organized an effort to track him down. Over the ensuing months she began to throw herself more and more into the search effort, and though Innes fretted and lectured, still Tana would not give up.

For she was determined to see this, at least, through to the end: partly in an effort to take her mind off Ephraim, partly as an act of rebellion against her brother, and partly because she still remembered the deal she had made with Cormag, so long ago now, it seemed.

In her search for Cormag she felt as if she were actually searching for some other, unknown thing as well. In her dreams she rode upon her pegasus, chasing after the sun as it crossed the vast blue sky. Sometimes she felt as if she just reached out, she would have it in her grasp. But always she came away with nothing but liquid golden rays and a whisper of a promise, and nothing more. So far away, she thought. So far away. And as the years passed, she began to dream up scenarios, imagining their reunion. She would see him in the distance, a dark silhouette against the horizon, and she would run to him, and he would look up, and when he saw her his face would light up with joy. I've been waiting for you, he would say. I waited for so long.

But when she finally received information from her scouts on his whereabouts, and set out to confront him herself, it turned out to be far more anticlimactic than any of her imaginings.

It was late in the evening, hot and sweltering, cicadas buzzing loudly and relentlessly in the otherwise suffocating stillness. She had dismounted her pegasus outside the village, and now she strode up to the shack she knew to be his, flinging the door open violently, not sure what she expected to find.

Certainly not the bent, haggard man surrounded by wood shavings she saw sitting in the middle of the floor, a dark, gleaming lance grasped within his hands.

"Come with me," she said, after the briefest of hesitations.

His only response was a wry chuckle as he glanced up at her. "Ah, it's you, Princess. I was wondering when you'd show up."

"Tana," she said stubbornly. "Now come."

He said nothing for some time. "Seth made me a similar proposal, you know. Back then."

"Why didn't you go to him, then?" she demanded, surprised. She had not realized the two men knew each other, much less that they had been friends. The realization pained her, somehow. "He would have found a place for you."

"Seth is no longer General, and hasn't been for years."

"But --" she protested, and then broke off. _Why didn't you come to _me, she almost said, and though the words remained unspoken, she knew that he could see the question lingering in her eyes.

"Please, Cormag," she said then, and she did not understand why she suddenly felt so desperate, why it suddenly seemed so urgent that he accept her offer.

"Very well," he said at last, smiling sadly. "I'll go with you."

o-o-o

Princess Tana knighted him in her service as soon as they arrived in Frelia. King Innes was not there to disapprove: both he and Queen L'Arachel alternated their stays in their respective kingdoms depending on season, and it was still summer -- too hot for Frelia, but just right for Rausten. Cormag was thankful for that much, at least; he had not known the man well, but knew the two royal siblings of Frelia were as different as night and day.

He was put in charge of training new recruits, which suited him well. He had left his wyvern when he had left Grado, and was unused to the Frelian pegasi. Sometimes still he missed the freedom of the skies, but flight had long lost its power for him, become irrevocably tainted by the memories of his brother, and everything that could have been. And above all, the matter of the lance weighed heavily upon his mind. He did not have the heart to participate in true battle anymore, he thought one day. It was an odd realization, for there had been a time when fighting was all he knew, and all that he had lived for.

He received a letter from Seth soon after his arrival, the first he had received since his self-imposed exile. He had heard from Eirika, Seth wrote, who had in turn heard from the Princess Tana. There was no accusation, no resentment in his words. Cormag wrote back, apologizing. _There is nothing to apologize for_, replied Seth, and with that they resumed their correspondence, as if they had never stopped at all.

It was all very strange to him.

o-o-o

The summer she found him, Tana began to wander about the halls aimlessly once more, the way she had as a child, feeling restless and smothered by the heat. By then she had spent so many years of her life searching for him, that now that he was actually, truly here, flesh and blood and bone, she felt strangely at a loss. She had thought that something would change. For weeks, as they had closed in on his whereabouts, her stomach had been tense with something that was either dread or anticipation, and her throat tight and clogged with some nameless emotion. As if finding him and bringing him back and knighting him as she had promised she would, all those years ago, would spark the beginning of something brilliant and momentous, though she knew not what it could be. As if she would wake up one morning to find that all the world had changed, and there was no going back.

But nothing had happened. Nothing had changed, save for the reopening of the void within her heart that she had filled over the years with her fool's search. (But she had found him, hadn't she? She had accomplished in the end what none of Innes's men could.) She was still hopelessly in love with Ephraim, Innes was still distant and cold, and the sun still rose in the east and set in the west. Nothing had changed, and yet Cormag was nothing like the man she remembered, and she did not know whether it was because her memories had always been false, sugarcoated with the dreams and ideals of a naive little girl, or if it was because she had never truly known him after all.

But she was no longer that little girl. She had been a woman many years now, and had long grown used to the rumors that lingered after her wherever she went, despite all her brother's efforts to suppress them. Proud King Innes's eccentric little sister was nothing like the beloved Princess of Renais, but Tana had found that she no longer cared.

I shall grow old and gray and alone, she thought, and haunt the halls of the castle like a lost pale ghost.

Only once did she happen upon Cormag again that summer: a bright morning, not yet scorched with heat, at the edge of a small, dusty road on the outskirts of the capital. The shadow of his back, bent over the ground. As she drew closer, concerned, she saw then the warm brown earth trickling through his fingers, his large, rough hands clasping at soil and air, sweat trailing down his neck, and his dark face inscrutable as ever, but glowing softly in the pale light.

She had watched him, mesmerized, thoughtful, but upon remembering herself she had hurried away, filled with sudden, perplexing doubt.

After that her thoughts turned no longer to ghosts, but to seeds and green buds and growing things.

o-o-o

Late one afternoon he stole away from the training grounds, and found himself in what appeared to be a tiny garden. The heavy perfume of flowers clung to the air, enveloping him in its hazy warmth. And there in the corner by the white trellis and the curling vines he saw the princess, dancing between the shadow and the light, in the dappled afternoon glow.

For a while he stood there, watching her as the sun sank steadily below the horizon, washing the earth in soft golden tones.

Afterwards, when he had returned to his quarters, he sat upon his bed, cradling the cursed lance in his lap. The light through his open window was tinged with red, and a slight breeze swept back the filmy curtains. The answer, he thought, was almost in his grasp.

But as he sat there, the lance resting in his hands, the shadows creeping longer, like reaching hands, a sudden chill ran down his back, and he stood violently, flinging the lance to the floor.

So close, he thought, but his fingers and his heart were numb, and sweat trailed across his face and arms. He closed the window and bent over to pick up the lance.

He wrapped it in thick layers of cloth, and quietly stowed it away.

o-o-o

The years passed. Tana turned down suitor after suitor. She held out no hope for marriage anymore, save in the deepest crevices of her heart, for she knew time waited for no one, and Ephraim drifted further and further from her with each passing year.

But she had made a promise, and even if time would not -- she, at least, would wait.

One day in her thirty-ninth year, Tana wandered into her mother's garden, and found Cormag sitting on a bench, gazing out into the distance.

"Princess," he said, standing guiltily when he finally noticed her presence.

The years had been good to him, she thought, surprised. His once harsh features were beginning to soften, and the weariness was gone from his eyes. They had spoken little since she had brought him back to Frelia, more than five years ago now, for their respective duties had kept them from crossing paths often. And yet he had become, somehow, a constant presence in her life, lingering ever there in the back of her mind. And now, as she looked at him, she felt as if she were seeing him for the first time.

"There aren't many flowers at this time of year," she said, sitting down herself and beckoning him to join her.

"Yes. I suppose I just like the peace and quiet here. It's rare that I have any time to myself."

"Ah," she said, smiling. "I feel the same."

Cormag leaned back, tilting his head to the sky. "It'll be winter soon."

"Yes." She fell silent, uncertain. But he seemed content to say nothing, and so they sat there together until it grew late and they parted ways.

He was there again the next day, at the same time, and the next. Soon it became a part of their daily routine; they would meet and sit together in what had once been her mother's garden, sometimes speaking, sometimes silent. And so time passed.

A week before Innes's forty-first birthday, they sat together, watching the red leaves falling from the trees.

"Glen always loved autumn," said Cormag suddenly. "Harvest season. A time of bounty, of warmth and family, he said. Even though the leaves are falling and everything's dying all the while."

She was quiet for some time. "I never liked autumn," she said. "When I see the birds flying south... I always feel so restless. As if something's missing, and I'm trying to find it, but no matter how hard I search, I can't."

"Birds, eh?" Cormag murmured. "Forgive me if I'm being too forward, Princess, but... do you ever... dream?"

The question took her by surprise.

"Yes," she whispered. "Of course. But why?"

"Last night," he said. "I dreamed of a white stag, racing to the edge of a cliff. But just as it reached the edge, it stopped. And then... it leaped. And as it leaped, it transformed into a dove."

"A dove?"

"Yes. But then, out of nowhere, a spear came flying, and struck its heart. And as it fell, it transformed again..."

"And?"

"And as I looked," said Cormag, "I realized... I realized that I was looking upon you. And that the spear had flown from my hand."

Their faces had drawn unconsciously closer, and as she gazed into his eyes, she found that she could not read them. Perhaps sorrow, perhaps fear, perhaps regret -- but she realized suddenly that she dared not find out.

Cormag, as if remembering himself, shook his head and turned away.

"Cormag..." she started, hesitantly, reaching out. "I..."

He turned back to her then, a strange look upon his face.

"We are not the Princess of Renais and her Silver Knight," he whispered harshly.

She leapt to her feet, all else forgotten, the words pouring from her mouth unbidden. "I don't care! I don't care about any of that! If they could make it work, why can't --"

"We are not the Princess of Renais and her Silver Knight," he repeated, more softly this time, "and we are no longer as young as we once were."

He paused, but no words came to her, and he continued, gentle but unrelenting.

"And you are in love with the King of Renais," he said with quiet finality, so softly that it might have been the wind.

She found herself blinking back tears. "I never wanted things to work out this way," she whispered. "I never wanted things to end up like this. I --"

"Life," he said, "doesn't always work out the way we want it to."

o-o-o

That night, he could not sleep, and removed the cursed lance from its hiding place for the first time in years. He slowly unwrapped the cloth that shrouded it, and saw that the years had not diminished its strange gleam, nor the intense, chilling power he felt as he gripped it in his trembling hands.

And in that moment, he understood.

o-o-o

The night before Ephraim's birthday, barely a month after her brother's, she arrived at Castle Renais upon her pegasus. She was uncertain what had possessed her to slip away from her room before dawn that morning, like the silly little girl she had once been, but as she flew, the sun had risen and crawled and fallen with her, and somehow it had comforted her, reassured her.

She slipped off onto his balcony and tapped gently at his window, lips pressed firmly shut and standing terribly still, afraid that she would burst with all the words and feelings bottled up within her. He was sitting at his desk, bent over piles of paperwork in the dimmed light, and her heart ached at the sight. All the years seemed to fly away before her, and she was no longer a woman in her twilight but a young girl once more.

He looked up at her tapping, startled.

"Tana? What are you doing here?"

She took a deep breath, and then another.

"I love you," she said.

_I've always loved you. I love you. I'll always love you._

_But I can't wait forever._

_I cannot wait anymore._

_I love you._

It was too much. She turned, climbing upon her pegasus, and fled without waiting for his response.

As she flew through the night, the icy wind battering her face, sweeping away her tears, she felt suddenly freer than she had ever felt before. Years of suppressed emotions bubbled to the surface, lightening her heart, setting it free from the chains that had bound it. She wondered why it had been so hard to let go. How easy it had been, and yet how hard. What had she been searching for all this time? What had she been seeking? It felt as if she had wasted so many years of her life, chasing after the impossible, after something that would remain forever out of her grasp. But when she thought that, it hurt so much that it was unbearable.

She really had loved him, she thought then. And she thought that perhaps she still did, even now.

How stupid she was.

How foolish.

She wept silently all the way back home.

The next night she went out to the garden alone to watch the stars. The air was chill with the promise of winter, and she drew her shawl tighter about her shoulders. The trees in the courtyard were barren, and the flowers beginning to wither.

"What're you doing out here so late, Princess?"

She turned, though she knew already from the craggy voice that it was Cormag.

"I'm waiting," she said, smiling faintly.

"Waiting?" he said, as he drew up to her side. "For what?"

"A wishing star," she replied, and tilted her head back to the sky, and he turned to look with her, and for a while they stood there together, silent.

"There was something I wanted to give to you yesterday," he said at last. "But you were gone."

"I went to Renais," she said.

"... I see."

"What did you want to give me?"

He shifted, and when she turned to look at him, he held in his hands a gleaming dark lance, vicious and forbidding.

She stepped back involuntarily. "That -- that thing. What is it?"

"It belonged to General Duessel," he said. "'A magic weapon of dark design', he told me, long ago. Not to be wielded 'until such a time as madness itself rules the day.'"

"You mean it's cursed," she whispered wonderingly, and then, more boldly, said, "Are you trying to curse me, Cormag?"

He snorted. "You shouldn't joke about such things, Princess."

"Tana," she corrected gently. "How did it manage to get into your hands? Surely such an object was of no little significance to him?"

"Family heirloom," said Cormag, hesitant. "I asked him to pass it on to me."

Tana waited.

"This lance... it drove Valter insane. I believed in my heart that I could master it, and turn its malevolence to good. Because a weapon is only a weapon -- it is in man's heart alone that evil resides. That is what I believed. But even now, I have not succeeded."

She opened her mouth to speak, but then saw the look on his face, the same terrible, vulnerable look she had seen only once before, but had never forgotten.

Instead, she reached out and took the lance, her fingers brushing lightly against his. His hands were rough and calloused, but warm. Her own hand felt small and fragile in their grasp as he closed her fingers around the lance, and a chill ran through her as she touched the weapon's smooth, cold surface.

But when she had gripped the lance within her hands, it seemed to her suddenly stripped of its terrifying menace, as if a great darkness had been lifted from it, and from both their hearts. In wonder she turned to smile at him, and found him smiling back, and realized that it was the first time she had ever seen him truly smile.

"It's getting cold," said Cormag, but neither of them made any move to go back inside, or let go.

And so they stood there, hand in hand, until sunrise colored the land in grays and chased away the stars, and the snow began to fall.

* * *

Obviously, this entire fic has been based on Eirika's route rather than Ephraim's, first because it's the route I played, and also because I much prefer the character development in Eirika's route. (Even though Ephraim gets more of the actual plot.)

And I'm probably one of the few people out there who doesn't like Ephraim/Tana, if only because I tend to detest "one-sided infatuation turning to true love" deals. Tana is remarkably childish throughout their entire support series; even their A-support seems to me rather non-romantic. Cormag/Tana is far more interesting for me because it puts her in a distinctly active rather than passive role, and really allows her to grow as a person and a character. (I've always been surprised and fascinated by her dying line in particular, which goes, "I've long been prepared for this day... Too long..." I mean, she's never really struck me as the morbidly fatalistic type, which makes that line all the more powerful.) Besides, Cormag is cool. I love him and his brother, I love his supports with Seth and Duessel... He's one of the most layered characters in the game, I think.


	3. Rosemary

**Disclaimer applies.**

**Notes:** This started out as a stand-alone fic, but about halfway through I realized it was the third and final part of "A Garden of Our Own," so I reworked it to fit with the first two stories. I already used "Rosemary" as a chapter title in another fic, but it just fits so perfectly for this that I had to reuse it. And "Song" is my favorite Christina Rossetti poem of all time. (Also please note that the previous two parts have been edited somewhat since their original posting, "Winter of Discontent" in particular.) **3/29/2008: EDIT FOR SCENE BREAKS**

* * *

**3. Rosemary**

_When I am dead, my dearest,  
Sing no sad songs for me;  
Plant thou no roses at my head,  
Nor shady cypress tree.  
Be the green grass above me  
With showers and dewdrops wet;  
And if thou wilt, remember,  
And if thou wilt, forget._

- Christina Rossetti, "Song"

It is spring when she finally returns to Caer Pelyn, and there are wrinkles on her face and silver in her hair, and the ache in her heart cuts more deeply than the ache within her bones. The path to the village is wet and green; birdsong fills the air, as does the clean scent of rain and grass and flowers blooming. The sun peers down through the gaps in the trees, parting the morning mists that trail about her as she climbs on, alone.

She is surprised, for her memories of the area consist primarily of shadow and craggy rock. She is surprised, too, that she even remembers the way, still, even now, so many years later -- something so trivial and insignificant, when there is so much else she has already forgotten.

It is late in the afternoon when she reaches the village entrance, and there she is greeted by a tall, gangly old man with faded, peppery red hair and a delightfully mischievous grin.

"Eirika! You're here! We were worried you'd gotten lost."

For a moment she hesitates.

"Ewan?" she asks, tentatively.

"That's right!" Ewan beams, and Eirika is struck by how much has changed, how much has remained the same. "Saleh went out to collect some herbs, or so he said, but I suspect he's actually looking for you. Come on, you must be tired from that trek. Amelia's got some good stuff cooking for dinner."

It is true that she is tired. She feels faint and ill from the height, and she is worn out from a week of hiking up slowly from the base of the mountain, step by step, breath after breath. She does not have the vigor she once did. And so despite her pride, she gratefully accepts the arm Ewan offers her, and leans slightly on him for support as they make their way through the village. An old woman, after all, thinks Eirika, has no more use for pride.

The village does not seem much larger or smaller than she recalls it being; the population, it seems, has remained mostly constant. Ewan, as if reading her mind, says, "Most of the younger generation leave the mountain when they're old enough to strike out on their own. Restless, or dissatisfied with life here. Want to see the world and all." He gestures wildly with wide, capable hands. "I can understand, of course. I was the same, when I was their age."

After a brief pause, he adds, "Most, but not all. Some of them stay behind, whether out of duty or because of the comfort of familiarity. And a few of those who leave eventually come back."

"Like you?" says Eirika.

"Like me," Ewan replies, grinning.

"It's strange, hearing you talk like an old man," Eirika says then, a slight smile playing about her lips, and Ewan laughs and laughs.

"According to Saleh, I haven't matured a bit! -- And probably never will. But I'm glad to hear that someone thinks differently!"

"No, no," she says, smile growing wider. "You'll always be a boy at heart."

Ewan winks, and a laugh escapes her mouth.

"Now that's the Eirika I remember!" exclaims Ewan, his voice muffled slightly as he ducks down and disappears through the door of the house they have just arrived at.

As she follows him inside, Eirika tries to remember the last time she laughed, and isn't sure what to think when she realizes that she cannot.

Later that evening they sit around the low table, still waiting for Saleh to return. The food is simple and plain, but filling.

"You know," says Eirika. "I almost didn't recognize the way up here. It's become so green and lovely."

Ewan snorts. "You just happened to get here at the right time. It's spring, now, but you'll see soon enough -- spring passes quickly in these parts."

"But it's true that it's not the same as it used to be," says Amelia, with a look of warning at Ewan, for she has perhaps sensed Eirika's mild discomfort at his words. "Every year we've been here the trees and the plants just seem to grow thicker, more lush."

"Ever since the world was changed, and the shadows departed the land..." Ewan replies in a tone that Eirika cannot tell is sincere or teasing.

But before Amelia can shoot back a retort, the door opens, and Eirika looks up to see Saleh standing there, perhaps a litle aged, perhaps a little wiser, but hardly changed at all from the man she had known, so many years ago.

"Lady Eirika," he says, solemn as ever, and inclines his head. "Welcome back."

In that moment, something within her is released, and she presses her hands to her face.

She weeps.

o-o-o

The irises in their garden had bloomed the day he passed away. She remembered this because they had been his favorite flowers, and hers, and it had seemed to her unfair that he should go without having a chance to see them in full blossom, one last time.

She had known the day was coming months before it happened, though he had said nothing, and she had said nothing either. They had always known, but always she had refused to let it hang over them, like some shadowy cloud. They had been through darkness and gloom enough already. They deserved their happiness.

And happiness they had had, years and years of happiness. And such happiness. They had grown old together, and watched their children enter adulthood, and their children's children come into the world.

But in the weeks after his passing, all that seemed but a distant dream. In a single moment her joy had turned to bitterness, the world turned dull and colorless, and she found no peace in the hours and the days. When her father had died, years ago, and when their dear friend Lyon had been lost to them forever, she had thought herself beyond all grief. She had remade herself into a strong woman, a woman with no time for tears, a woman dedicated heart and soul to her brother the king, and to the country they had rebuilt and toiled tirelessly for, and ruled together.

And so it was that she found that she had forgotten the taste of tears. In her place the heavens wept, and petals scattered in the wind and on the ground, and she locked up their garden and buried the key deep within the earth. And when, after the funeral, she rode away from the villa that had been their home for so many years to return to her brother's side, she did not once look back.

o-o-o

Just as Ewan warns, spring in the mountains soon passes. The creek dries to a mere trickle, and with it the surrounding flora turns withered and brown. The mornings and nights remain gray and cool, but during the day the sun beats down mercilessly upon the land.

In their own garden, where they grow the fruits and vegetables that sustain them throughout the year, Amelia, her daughter, and Eirika toil, kneeling side by side in the crumbling soil, pulling out the yellowed weeds. Saleh and Ewan have been studying the properties of a newly discovered shrub species by the creek, but stop back by the village every now and then to bring the women much-needed water and pore over thick, heavy tomes in the relative cool of the house.

They work together in companionable silence, the young mother and the old soldier and the former queen, sweat pouring down their faces and their backs. Sometimes one or the other speaks, but more often they remain quiet and wordless. Once or twice Amelia's daughter breaks into song, and after a few lines Amelia joins her. Eirika does not know the words or tunes, but listens to their voices, joined in the stillness of the air.

At sundown, Amelia's daughter leaves to see to her husband and baby, and Amelia and Eirika are left alone. They watch together as the sun sinks below the horizon, coloring the land in red.

"You know, I always really admired you, Eirika," says Amelia.

Eirika laughs lightly in response. "Goodness, I had no idea."

"Yeah. Most of the other recruits were men -- boys, really. I was one of the only female foot soldiers in the entire army, and the wyvern riders were of course all men, not like the Frelian pegasus knights. There was General Selena, of course, everyone knew about her, but she was a mage, and the way people looked at me sometimes I think I must have been the only female lanceman ever to exist! And I was so weak then, weakest and slowest of all the recruits -- but look at me now!" Amelia laughs and holds out her hand. Eirika takes it, and is almost envious, but not surprised, to find her grip still firm. The other woman's diminutive figure belies a wiry strength that has not diminished with age, and her movements are even now filled with an easy grace.

"But before I met you," continues Amelia, "I never knew a woman could be so refined and elegant -- I mean, a princess! So kind and so compassionate, and yet so deadly with a weapon."

"What about Queen Ismaire of Jehanna?"

"Oh, but of course! But she was a grown woman, and queen of a kingdom of mercenaries, and you were just a few years older than me, yet already leading your own troops into battle. Really, you don't know how much I worshipped you." Amelia grins, embarrassed at the memory despite all the years that have passed, and the fact that they are now both old and gray.

Eirika smiles softly. "I was so young then, and so inexperienced. I barely had any idea what I was doing. If it weren't for --" She breaks off, letting her sentence dangle unfinished as she gazes off into the distance. "I must confess, I always envied you and Ewan as well. To have had the courage to go traveling around the world by yourselves at your age, to see all that life held, experiencing all kinds of different things..."

"We were all young then," Amelia says. "Sure, we saw a lot, and got to help a lot of people, but we did a lot of stupid things and got into a lot of trouble, too. You know what Ewan's like." She laughs. "It all worked out in the end, though, didn't it?"

"I suppose it did," says Eirika. They had vanquished the Demon King at the last, she and her brother, leading their little army to victory without any losses. No losses, save for the countless innocents who had fallen along the way, and for their father, dead almost a year by then, and Lyon... Poor, gentle Lyon.

"But Eirika," says Amelia then, almost shyly. "If you had wanted to see the world -- I mean, I know you and your brother were busy with rebuilding -- but surely, once things had settled down a bit, you could have taken the time to travel around for a while."

"I..." Eirika begins, then stops. "No, you're right. I suppose I could have. But I suppose it just never really occurred to me... Because by then, I had already made my choice."

"Oh," whispers Amelia.

"I have no regrets," says Eirika. "It was the only choice; I could not have been happy had I made any other. I would have wondered, regretting, for the rest of my life, and I did not want to live a life of regrets."

But if she does not regret, what sorrow it is that she feels now, she cannot say.

o-o-o

They had lived a life of impossibilities. It was impossible that they should have fallen in love, impossible that war should have come to their peaceful land, that Grado should have invaded, that the castle should have fallen, impossible that he should have survived that dreadful injury, that long ago summer night, and impossible that they should have won, in the end, against a Demon King made impossibly real from darkness and lore.

Five years after the terrible quake of Grado, after the sudden influx of refugees escaping the devastation, and when Renais had finally returned to some semblance of stability, though not yet to its former glory, she and her brother had reinstated an old yearly midsummer's festival, to celebrate the sun and the height of summer, and to commemorate the Grado invasion, now an event of distant memory, but still deeply entrenched in the hearts of the people.

That first year, their children had been not yet four, and the streets had been thick with the scent of sweet jasmines from Jehanna, a wedding gift from King Joshua and his fair queen years ago, blooming in small white clumps like little stars dotting the evening. And they had watched, smiling, over the little twins, as Sir Kyle's young son led them in a children's game of monsters and knights and princesses.

But in the end, the festivities had been marred: she had seen him wincing in the shadows when he thought no one looking, hand brushing against the old injury, that grotesque scar that lay hidden beneath his clothes. And she had taken him and the children aside then, and insisted that they retire early.

"Cormag wrote to me once, before he disappeared, about the man who gave me this. He told me that Valter had gone insane after wielding a cursed lance, a dark weapon that thirsted for blood and drove men mad," he said, later that night. "Perhaps this wound, too, is cursed."

"Don't speak of such things," she had said, glad that the children were sound asleep, and could not overhear. "We'll have a healer look at it tomorrow morning."

"It's probably nothing. I strained it, perhaps, earlier today."

"Yes, perhaps," she'd agreed, though in their hearts they both knew better.

She had thought then of that night, that long ago night, that terrible, nightmarish scene from the past. Soldiers swarming everywhere, fires blazing, her father trapped with the last of his men within the throne room. The madman upon his mad beast, and his vicious, crazed laughter...

The warm breeze upon her face as they galloped away into the night, leaving everything far, far behind.

o-o-o

In the fall, a group of traveling merchants from Carcino passes through the village. The leader of the group comes yearly and is well known to Saleh, who has been head of the village ever since his grandmother passed away; even so, he allows them to stay only after receiving a promise that they will soon leave.

"Rest assured, Saleh, we'll be departing soon enough -- winter's coming, and if we stay too long we'll find ourselves caught right in the middle of a snowstorm up here in these mountains!" says the merchant. "And of course we couldn't possibly impose on you good folks all the way until next spring!"

The merchant laughs. His jolliness is forced, but there is no denying that he is a perceptive man. He greets both Ewan and Amelia like old friends, but when he comes upon Eirika sitting quietly in the corner, he glances shrewdly at her and says, "Oh? And who is this? I don't recall seeing you around."

"She is an old friend of mine, whom I met during my travels as a young man," says Saleh. "She has just recently suffered a great loss, and decided to remove herself from the outside world and stay here for some time to ease her sorrows. I would ask that you not trouble her."

"Oh?" repeats the merchant, still suspicious. But he does not question them further. "I see. You have my understanding, Mistress. Excuse me."

Eirika is glad for Saleh's intrusion, glad for his consideration, and that no one can intrude upon her grief with false condolences. She is glad that she is stripped of all identity, here in this place -- no longer the former queen of Renais, but a mere widow.

Harvest has passed, and there is little left for Eirika to do. Everyone is making preparations for the coming winter, and she helps where she can, but more often than not she finds herself sitting idly outside, gazing at nothing in particular. She misses the changing of colors and sense of gay festivity that autumn once heralded for her. Here in the mountains there are only pine and dead, bare snags, and a sense that all time has stilled for her alone, while she watches life pass by before her eyes.

Saleh comes to keep her company sometimes, when he is not busy with Ewan and their studies, or with his duties as the village head. He had loved her once, she knows. Though perhaps love is too strong a word, when they had been barely more than strangers, in the end. He and she had been from different worlds, even more distant and alien than a knight and his lady -- he occupied with his beloved student and the little dragon girl, and she with the war and her brother and Lyon and Seth...

Even so, in the few times they had spoken together, she had sensed his growing regard for her, and she could not deny that she too had found herself fascinated by his wise, quiet ways. She wonders, idly, sometimes, if things might have been different. In another time, another place --

But those days are long past now. She gave away all her love long ago, and she knows that the care he shows her now is but a shadow and a memory of past affections.

The first evening of the merchants' stay, Saleh comes to her as she watches the lengthening shadows of dusk. For some time they sit together, unspeaking. But then Eirika says, remembering, "Whatever happened to Ewan's sister? Tethys and Gerik and their band? Amelia mentioned that the merchants used to hire them as guides and guards while passing by these parts."

His silence does not surprise her, for moreso than anyone else she has ever known, Saleh is a man who considers his words carefully before he speaks. But when speak he does at last, his words are most unexpected.

"They died many years ago."

It is a great shock to her, though it should not be. Somehow, she has always assumed they would retire, and live out their lives in peace. She realizes now that they could not have, could never have, for their work was so much a part of them that they could hardly have given it up, lest they lose their very sense of self. And no mercenary expects to die of old age, not even those of the caliber of the famed Desert Tiger.

And yet she cannot help but ask, "How?"

"A mission gone awry. They went down together, fighting. Gerik and Tethys and Marisa. Only one of their band survived, and escaped here to find me, but despite all our aid, he succumbed to his injuries a week later."

Though Saleh speaks in his usual calm, quiet manner, Eirika senses more emotion in his voice now than she has ever before. She has, after all, spent a lifetime listening to words unsaid.

"I never realized," she says, even knowing that nothing she says will change reality. "Ewan..." She trails off, and neither of them speak again for some time.

"Why does it hurt so much to love?" she murmurs at last, more to herself than to her companion.

"Because we are human," he replies, "and even the most solitary of us long for connection, however shallow, however transient. Ever we search outside, seeking for something, someone, never even knowing what it is we seek for. We forget that we must look inwards, for only within ourselves can we find the truth."

"I will not say that time heals all wounds," he adds, a moment later. "Even now Ewan mourns his lost sister, and I still mourn my friend. But..." He hesitates. "Life goes on. We live."

"Life goes on," she repeats softly, but it does not hurt any less.

o-o-o

It had been autumn when they wed, and autumn when their children were born.

Though theirs had been a simple wedding compared to the lavish ceremony Innes and L'Arachel would hold years later, there had been dancing and singing and food and wine and laughter, and merry chrysanthemums trailing from her bouquet. The knights had made countless rowdy jokes in teasing when they thought she was not listening, and even her brother had been surprised at how dearly the people loved them, when all they had been expecting was gossip and disapproval.

"You see?" she had told her new husband when they were left to their privacy at last, that night. "Everything went just fine."

He'd winced, perhaps from the alcohol, or perhaps at the memory of some of the dirtier jokes he had been forced to endure, and she had laughed, shrugging off her chrysanthemum-patterned outer robes with a slight, secret smile.

Her pregnancy some years later was a difficult one, and though he said nothing, she could see how he fretted. He had become more and more overprotective of her than he had been in years, until at last, feeling crowded, she had insisted that he stop. Years of obeying the orders of his lieges had been perhaps too deeply ingrained in him, for he had done as she asked, though his concern clearly still remained.

After a long, painful labor, she had given birth at last to a pair of twins, a boy and girl, much like she and her brother themselves.

_I am happy_, she remembered thinking then, as her husband sat at her side, gazing down with awkward joy at their newborn children. _I am the happiest person in the world_.

o-o-o

The merchants leave. Winter arrives at long last, harsh and bitter. The days are cold, and the nights even colder, and the villagers spend their time mostly indoors. Despite the stores of food they have laid aside throughout the year, supplies are meager, and some nights they go hungry.

Those nights, they sit together around the fireplace and tell stories. Ewan tells outrageous tales of his and Amelia's youthful exploits, filling the house with laughter. Sometimes, when he is in a more thoughtful mood, he waxes poetic, remembering greener days and haunting landscapes. Amelia talks of the kindnesses they have seen, and the injustices they have seen, and the little things in life: her daughter's first words, the merchant who saw his wife and son but once a year, the Frelian fisherman and his single-minded dedication to his elderly mother.

Saleh says little, though sometimes Ewan persuades him to share from his vast store of knowledge. On those rare occasions, he speaks of dragons and princesses, of ancient civilizations bright and glorious, of their decline and fall, of old dark creatures wondrous and terrifying, and of the brave men and women who fought for humanity. They are old, familiar stories by now to Ewan and Amelia, and yet they devour them greedily, listening raptly to his words. Eirika too finds herself mesmerized, her dormant imagination roused by these half-forgotten tales.

She is the only one who never speaks. She has no stories to tell, she thinks, or perhaps she is simply not ready to share them yet. But she listens long into the night, and forgets the hunger gnawing at her stomach and the cold battering at her very bones, and is surprised when she realizes how low the fire has burned.

It seems to her incredible that this should be so.

"How do you all manage to survive like this?" she asks Saleh one day. "Year after year after year."

To her surprise, he grants her a rare smile.

"The stories sustain us," he answers simply, quietly. "The stories, and the memories."

o-o-o

The night he proposed to her it had been snowing, and within the warm comfort of the room she had asked, "Do you remember? The first time we ever met?"

In the firelight the lines of his face had been softened, and his normally stern, reserved expression glowed with quiet but effusive joy. "You were but a little girl, then."

"Yes," she said, leaning against his shoulder, her fingers entwined with his. "And you just newly promoted."

"I remember. It was not yet the solstice, and I was nervous, but so proud, and excited to have such happy news to report back to my family."

"You? Nervous?" She turned to him, smiling. "Tell me, then. Were you nervous as well just now, when you proposed to me?"

"Nervous? I was near shaking in my boots."

"Did you think I would reject you?"

"Yes," he replied, seriously. "I had turned you away and been cold to you, hoping that in time you would forget me, and that we would once more be but lord and liege, and nothing more."

"I could never forget you, Seth."

"I know," he murmured. "I know. But I had other doubts as well. For I am but a knight, and too old for you..."

"Too old! I am a grown woman, and you are not ten years my senior."

"I can see that you have given much thought to this."

"But of course. In my spare hours I think of nothing but you, you know."

She saw that she had finally embarrassed him too much to continue, and laughed, reaching out playfully with one hand to trace the line of his jaw. But still she could not resist one final question. "Would you have ever changed your mind on your own, had my brother not changed it for you?"

"King Ephraim did no such thing," he said, clearly still flustered. "He merely thought to make it clear to me that, well, if we were to... if I was to... That he would not disapprove."

She smiled. "You mean instead of ordering you outright to propose to me, he hinted very strongly at it. I see he is finally beginning to learn the art of subtlety! Though I imagine he must have been tired of watching us dance awkwardly around each other all the time. It can't have been easy, trying to work in that kind of atmosphere."

Even he could not help but smile at that, and for some time they sat together in an easy silence.

"I told you once," she said softly then, "that it was on the night the castle fell, when I first forgot my place and my duty... But the truth is, I cared for you long before that night, but never knew it until then."

She did not tell him that she remembered still that solemn boy, hardly a young man, so many years past -- that gallant gesture, and the first of the winter roses.

It was some time before he replied. "I cared for you first as King Fado's daughter and the princess to whom my life was dedicated in service. But I cannot say when it was that my feelings turned to something more... I know only that once I started, I could not stop, as improper as I knew it to be. I never forgot my duty, it is true... But neither could I forget you, Eirika."

And she knew that was as close to an answer, a confession, that she would ever get from him. And the way he had spoken her name at last, without title or rank, filled her with such joy that she could not speak, until at last she whispered, "Seth..."

She wrapped her arms about his neck, and as he held her close to him, their lips met, and they were both of them filled with a warmth that even the howling wind outside could never destroy.

o-o-o

The snows thaw, replaced by warm rains, and the sun peeks out from behind the gray clouds, and spring comes once more to Caer Pelyn. Birdsong fills the air, and the world is wet and green.

There are no shadows here, but the memory of them: rising and falling like the tide.

_I shall not see the shadows,  
I shall not feel the rain;  
I shall not hear the nightingale  
Sing on as if in pain.  
And dreaming through the twilight  
That doth not rise nor set,  
Haply I may remember,  
And haply may forget._

**The End**

* * *

I _love _Seth/Eirika beyond words (they're one of my main "ships" of the game), but Saleh/Eirika intrigues me. Their supports are really nonromantic, so reading their shared ending surprised me, and made me really wonder. As it is, I don't think the scenario laid out in this fic series is all that unlikely. Seth will almost certainly predecease Eirika for various possible reasons, and I'd like to think she would choose to move on. Not necessarily "with another man", of course, but the Saleh/Eirika relationship has a very unique dynamic to me that is not really your stereotypical "romance." Nor even the master/student thing I have seen some people writing. But yeah, basically, there's a reason I labeled this fic "drama/angst" and not "romance/angst" or something similar -- the only real romance in all three parts is Cormag/Tana, and the various established relationships like Eirika/Seth and L'Arachel/Innes.

As for the implied Ewan/Amelia, I generally don't have much preference between this pairing and the apparently more popular Franz/Amelia, but for the purposes of this fic series it has to be Ewan/Amelia, because as I see it, the two pairings are embodiments of completely different ideals. So to speak. And I needed Ewan/Amelia in this fic to further emphasize various themes that wouldn't work with Ewan alone.

Finally, I suppose this is the place to say that though I tried to keep game dialogue to a minimum, I did reference and incorporate bits and pieces of the script and support conversations (credit goes to the people who compiled the files on GameFAQs), particularly in "The Winter of Our Discontent".

(Whoohoo, FINALLY done with this. I CAN TOO FINISH WHAT I START.)


End file.
